It Matters
by RenaRoo
Summary: Sometimes it's all in the little gestures.


goodluckdetective prompted: Kimbalina: post war kiss. Maybe a jump hug. Just femslash it up.

This is short and silly and I apologize lol

Red vs Blue and related properties © Rooster Teeth  
story © RenaRoo

 **It Matters**

It's a rush – a thrill, an exhilaration perhaps – the end is _many_ things but beyond anything questionable it's _here._ And that's what counts, what _matters._

Kimball watches her soldiers locking up what remains of Charon's hired forces and she thinks, a little breathless, a little worried, _we did it._

And suddenly the rush, the thrill, the exhilaration becomes something entirely different.

It becomes terrifying.

Their heroes are banged up – bloody, bruised, a little broken, but alive to inspire for another day. But they're not _leaders._ Not really. She can't see them truly being in charge of Chorus like Kimball stands to be without the entire thing ending u in one unmitigated disaster.

When she looks at their faces she finds them to be a lot like the people of Chorus now. Lost, beaten, more than a little crest-fallen.

And despite her presence, _leaderless._

Carolina looks the most lost of all.

The former Freelancer rips off her helmet a little exaggeratedly after they land in the medbay, the colorful band of simulation troopers wheeled off with Washington in suit, shouting about various allergies and preferences for his troops to Doctor Grey's staff.

She doesn't follow into the hospital, though. She stands outside the doors, wavering from foot to foot, and then she drops weightily into the bench outside, eyes wide and face a little hollow.

Kimball stands nearby, watching carefully, she doesn't miss the way Carolina's eyes glint toward her.

"We won," Carolina states plainly.

"We did," Kimball replies, dropping beside her and taking a deep breath. "We sure as hell did."

They sit, shoulder to shoulder. And though there aren't any words, Kimball can feel the need in the frigidness of Carolina's body, the straight line formed by her arms at her sides.

It takes a moment to truly process what is needed in the moment, but Kimball figures it out.

There's not a lot of time. There's places to be, people to lead, speeches to read.

But she makes time to pull Carolina's hand into hers, dragging it along into her lap, and then securely squeezing it. Letting her know that it's okay to feel whatever she's going through. That the emotions _should_ be conflicting. And that, most of all, if there's any happiness for her to be feeling today, even in the darkest time, then it's well earned.

It's well earned by both of them.

* * *

Weeks have passed and Carolina thinks first and foremost _what the hell am I doing?_

She stands waiting outside the office door. Wash says not kicking doors in is some sort of sign of respect and trust. But it's irritating and testing her patience to do so because–

Well, because _Kimball_ is on the other side of that door. And not on the side with Carolina where she needs to be, where she deserves to be and there's just something intrinsically wrong with the idea that the two of them are not together right then.

Because _once_ that door finally opens and Kimball is carrying herself through with stiff shoulders and a tired sleeplessness to her eyes, it's obvious that no matter how private the meetings had been, Carolina needed to be there for her.

Still, Wash might be on to something because Kimball's smile pops up immediately.

"Hey," Carolina shrugs.

"Hello," Kimball says. "Are you ever going to miss a lunch date? You can't continue to impress me only to let me down one day. I deserve to know ahead of time."

"Nah," Carolina shrugs, taking to the general's side as they wall through the courthouse.

There's a certain rigidness to Kimball in her stride, a way that her shoulder and arm lines against Carolina's own until it's like their bodies are aligned together. Like it's a missing piece falling back into its proper place.

The days after the war are confusing times. They're no longer fighting for survival – they're still _fighting._ Not a citizen exists on Chorus who is not still a warrior or soldier thinly beneath the surface.

But they're looking for something to fight for, and almost _anything_ serves as a good enough reason. Which makes Kimball's unexpected duty as a new peacekeeper particularly challenging.

There's probably not anyone who has to fight the instinct to _fight_ more than she.

But the day's still new and their walk into the open air of the city is met with a certain quiet glee despite the needs between the two of them not being all that different than they were at the hospital so long ago.

"You know, I'm always going to show up to be there for you, like it or not now, you're stuck with me," Carolina informs her with stride.

Kimball blinks a bit, taken aback before looking curiously at Carolina. "Oh?"

Carolina squeezes her hand. "Like it or not, it's your own fault. You asked for this."

"How did I do that?" Kimball laughs, something that just weeks before Carolina would have sworn was an impossible sound.

"You took my hand when I needed you to," Carolina answers. "And showed me how much _it matters._ How can I not thank you back for that?"

They squeeze each other's hands as they continue on.


End file.
